


Riptide Deleted Scene - Plus or Minus

by GallifreyGod



Series: Riptide-verse [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Arguing, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Relationship Problems, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyGod/pseuds/GallifreyGod
Summary: She didn't care how many signs there were, how many arrows pointed directly to the answer. How many mornings she had spent dry heaving and how many nights she had spent riding Hopper into oblivion due to her suddenly raging hormones; despite barely even wanting to speak to him. She was not pregnant. She couldn't be.Pre-epilogue of Riptide — Joyce and Hopper deal with Joyce's unplanned pregnancy.[If you haven't read Riptide, none of this will make sense]





	Riptide Deleted Scene - Plus or Minus

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't stay away forever. Time to talk about how Kennedy Anne came to be.

With heavily lidded eyes, she stares at the porcelain edge of the toilet. Her finger traces along the floorboards, her mind deep in contemplation while also somehow remaining completely numb. It was early, way too early to be hunched over and sick as a dog. She wasn't entirely sure how much time she had spent on the floor, but she was certain that the sun hadn't even risen yet. 

As far as she knew, Hopper was blissfully asleep in the next room while she rested her head against the bathroom wall. It was the first week of summer, and as per tradition, everybody had loaded up the car and drove out to enjoy a few months at the beach house.

Enjoy was not a word she would use right now. 

Although she found most of her comfort on the island, she wanted to be tucked in bed back at their home in Hawkins. The idea of being 850 miles away from home while feeling as if she had contracted the plague was not very calming to her mind. Not that being back at home would make a difference, she would still be huddled in the corner with a crushing case of the stomach flu.

The flu, that was what she was calling it because that was what it was. Except, she had never met a flu virus that lasted for three weeks, but there was a first time for everything. 

The car ride had been absolutely awful, and she could only attribute that more to the reason why her 'flu' was sticking around a little bit longer than she had expected. The summer heat, the prolonged time in the car, it was a recipe for exactly what was happening right now. 

"Joyce," Hopper's sleepy voice got her attention. He was standing in the doorway, giving her the same look he had given her when her 'flu' had entered week two. "You okay?" he chose his words carefully, seeing as last time he had jumped the gun and interrogated her as to why she was sick, it hadn't ended in his favor. 

"I'm fine," she lied, her voice gravelly and weak as she rested her head back against the wall. She didn't sound fine, look fine, or even feel fine. The bags of exhaustion under her eyes and the pale tone of her skin could only disagree with her words. She wasn't fine.

"Joyce," he tries again. "Joy, we need to talk about this." he sighs, leaning against the doorframe as his hand scrubs against his face. He knew from the moment she had first gotten sick what the prognosis was, another possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. They were irresponsible and inconsistent with protection under the notion that it just wasn't possible. They were getting older, their bodies weren't as young as they once were. After every impossible and unexplainable event they had seen in their lives, the chance of this happening seemed crazier than any of it. 

"No," she grunts out, pushing herself up from the floor and walking past him out of the bathroom. "We don't." her words reverberated in his ears as she slammed the bedroom door behind her, retreating to the guest room for the rest of the morning. 

With a heavy sigh, he rolled himself back into bed and under the covers. 

* * *

Two mornings later and the outcome was practically the same. Joyce with her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, hiding behind the locked bathroom door. Within two days, or even the last three weeks, she had barely spoken to Hopper. Not out of anger, but with rather nothing to say. Instead, she had resorted to her old methods of keeping her thoughts and denial to herself. 

"Joyce!" his knuckles rapped against the door for the tenth time as she pretended he didn't exist. "Please, just open the door." she could hear the frustration he was trying to hold back in his voice. Deep down, she knew she was playing games with him. Seeing how long she could pretend things weren't what they were before it would erupt into a problem. Last time that had happened, she had darted for the water and nearly ended up dead. It was a dangerous game to play, and quite frankly, one she didn't play very well. 

She was trying to drown out the sound of him calling out her name until it had actually stopped. At first, she thought maybe it had worked, until she realized he had just walked away. _Finally, some peace and fucking quiet,_ she thinks to herself.

"Ellie, c'mere," Hopper says as he leans into her bedroom, his hands motioning for him to follow. The girl follows him out of her room silently, completely aware of the fact that her parents had been arguing nonstop for three weeks. She trudged alongside him, following him up the stairs and into the master bedroom. 

"Open the door please," he says simply. 

Just as her hand reaches out to grip the doorknob, he stops her. "No," he taps his finger against his skull. "It's locked, I need you to open it." 

She gives him a look, the same look she always gives him when she thinks he's about to do something stupid. As if, for a split second, they've switched places and she is now the parent. With a hesitant sigh, she flicks her head to the side and the lock hitches. 

"Thank you," he whispers as she trails out of the room. 

"Joyce," he says again, his voice softer this time. "I'm coming in." When he opens the door, he sees her lying in the same state she has been in for a while, curled up on the floor with no life in her eyes. "C'mon," he breathes, leaning down and picking her up into his arms. She doesn't protest like he expects her to. Instead, she allows him to carry her back to their bed, gingerly setting her down and tucking the covers over her body. 

He kneels down next to the bed, staring eye-level at her. "Do you want me to cancel dinner at Ruth's tonight?" he asks softly, avoiding the inevitable argument that will soon burst at the seams. 

"No," she answers in a quiet breath. She stares at him with a vast nothingness in her eyes, just pure exhaustion. She can tell that he's incredibly frustrated with her, but he's trying with all of his might not to show it. It's okay, she's frustrated with herself too. 

"Alright," he kisses her forehead before standing up. "Get some rest, I'll wake you up before it's time to go," 

She can feel the anger radiating from him, but she can also feel just how he's trying hard to hide it from her. She isn't ready to face it, not yet. 

Left alone in the quiet bedroom, she listens to the crashing waves in the distance. Her eyes stay glued to the plain gray wall as she grows lost in the same thoughts she's tired of thinking about 24/7. As she lays in the silence, she feels the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. If she had any strength left in her body, she'd make an effort to let them fall. 

* * *

Dinner at Ruth's became a frenzy, everybody talking over each other and having conversations they had been waiting to have since they arrived. Everybody has a story of something that has happened while they were apart, something they're so excited to share. 

Joyce started to feel a little bit better, as she usually did in the evenings. She knows that she's being ignorant to what her body is trying to tell her, and instead, brushes it off as nothing. With Will and Jonathan, any morning sickness she had almost always extended throughout the day, and therefore this must not be morning sickness.

It was a weak argument, she knew that.

Through the bustling of kids and adults working their way in and out of the kitchen, she stares at the bottle of wine on the counter. 

She wasn't pregnant. 

And the empty glasses it was waiting to be poured into. 

She couldn't be. 

If she wasn't pregnant, then she could drink. No, not _if._ She was not pregnant.

She didn't care how many signs there were, how many arrows pointed directly to the answer. How many mornings she had spent dry heaving and how many nights she had spent riding Hopper into oblivion due to her suddenly raging hormones; despite barely even wanting to speak to him. 

Or even the fact that her period had become several weeks late — to which she assumed meant nothing other than the fact that she might be going through early menopause. 

She was not pregnant. 

As she reached for the glass, she looked across the room and spotted Hopper. His jaw was hanging slightly open as he stared at her, rage and hurt taking over his expression. _"Don't you fucking dare,"_ he grits out almost silently, making sure she could read every vowel on his lips. 

She slams the glass down on the counter, squaring her jaw as she entered what felt like a staring contest with him. A sudden wave of fatigue washes over her, forcibly closing her eyes. Her elbows fall to the countertop and her face rests in her palms. 

Before she can even take a deep breath, Hopper is at her side. "Can I talk to you for a moment? Outside," his eyes have shifted into a darker shade of blue than she's ever seen them. Her jaw is completely clamped shut as she follows him out towards the beach, away from the house. 

His head shakes angrily as he searches for the right words. "What the hell are you doing, Joyce?" he shouts, watching her recoil. "How goddamn long are we gonna have to keep up this charade until you wake up and face the music?"

"Why are you so hellbent on this, Hopper?" she shouts back. "Can you please just drop it already!"

"No! No, I will not drop this. You can stand there and lie to yourself when it's only you who's involved, but it's not just you anymore. It's both of us, and you're being selfish!" 

_"Selfish?"_ she asks, her own eyes beginning to blaze with anger. "I didn't want this, Hopper! Jesus Christ, I'm forty-one years old! I've had my kids already, I didn't want this to happen!" 

"Just because you don't want something doesn't mean you can will it out of existence, Joyce! I didn't want this to happen either, but you won't even make the choice to see if it's happened or not. You're ready to keep going about life as if there is a zero percent chance that you're pregnant and _that_ is selfish. How many more signs do you need for you to see that this is not the goddamn flu, Joyce?"

"I'm scared, alright!" she bellows at the top of her lungs. "I'm fucking terrified! God!" she throws her hands down at her sides, turning away from him as she tries to catch her breath. 

"What, you don't think I'm scared too?" he rages, feeling his heart cracking from the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm just as scared as you are, but sometimes we have to just grow the hell up and deal with these things. Haven't we learned that already?"

She turns back to face him, an incredulous huff laugh coming from her lungs. "You know what, don't fucking talk to me like I'm a child alright? Don't you dare patronize me!" 

The yelling only increases as the seconds fly by. As soon as they're nearly nose to nose in a full-blown fight match, Ruth's voice pulls to both of their attentions. "Alright, knock it off!" the woman scolds, pointing her finger at the both of them. "I don't know what the hell is going on between the two of you, all I know is that it's been happening since you got here. Now, do I need to put you both in time out like the children you're acting like, or can we figure this shit out as adults? Because all three of your children are in there looking scared as hell as to why their mom and dad are brawling on the beach!" 

Joyce shifts her eyes down towards the ground with guilt. Hopper crosses his arms against his chest, quietly nodding at Ruth's words. 

"Can someone please tell me what is happening?" Ruth asks, her voice lowering back to its normal and calm state. 

Hopper takes a deep breath, ready to answer first before being cut off by Joyce. 

"I'm gonna go home and lie down," she mutters, hanging her head and walking as if her tail were tucked between her legs, leaving Hopper and Ruth alone on the beach. 

"Do I wanna know?" Ruth asks, turning to the man next to her. 

He closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he watches Joyce disappear into the house. He fought to find the right words, debating on even telling Ruth at all. 

"Congrats, I think you've got another grandkid on the way," he answers with a completely monotone voice, watching her jaw drop from the corner of his eye.

"She's pregnant?!" Ruth shrieks. 

"I don't know! She won't take a test. She's claimed to have had the flu for three weeks. I'm at my wits ends, Ruth. It's like she won't even acknowledge it! None of this would be a problem if she just took a damn test and saw that it's negative, but you know her, she's so damn hard headed tha—"

Ruth's hand strikes across his face and he stops and stares at her with his jaw gaping. 

"She's scared, you jackass!" the woman stares up at him, eerily reminding him of Flo. "You've known her since you were practically a baby yourself, you outta know by now that this isn't the way you go about things with her!" 

"What else am I supposed to do?" he throws his hands up in the air.

"You do what you always do when she's scared shitless. _Support her."_ Ruth states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You know Joyce. You know that she's unlike anybody you've ever met. She gets scared, she goes into denial, and she shuts down. Unless you want her to break like she did last time, you better get a damn grip on this. Be her husband, Jimmy." 

* * *

The bell that hung over the pharmacy door had rung twice the next day. The first time at ten in the morning, it had been Joyce who was walking in the door. She held tightly onto the cardigan wrapped around her body, ducking her head as she navigated through the aisles. 

The second time it had rung, at eleven in the morning, it was Hopper making his way through the door. Joyce had been out that morning by the time he had woken up, and he assumed she was either avoiding him or running errands elsewhere. He had heard every word Ruth had said and finally realized where he had gone wrong. Metaphorically, he had been standing above her, not next to her. He was making it out to be a situation that didn't directly affect him as much as it affected Joyce. Ruth had made him finally see that he was just as much at fault here and that he needed to step off of the pedestal he stood upon.

She scanned through the shelved little boxes, each one of them claiming to be the best on the market. How could a box of pregnancy tests be so daunting? Happy smiles on the covers of each one. A woman beaming at the little plus sign. Another one showed a picture of a couple staring down at the little stick, both smiling with their teeth. It made her even more nauseous than she already was. 

Aisle five. It had taken him a few minutes to find them, but once he did, he stared at each box. Some were pink, some were blue, all of them overly priced and depicting the wrong example of what he wanted. God, was there one with a woman on the box sighing with relief as a negative symbol appeared? 

"That'll be $10.55, ma'am."

"That'll be $10.55, sir."

Unbeknownst to each other, both of them had left the pharmacy with a white paper bag that held the contents of what would be the rest of their lives. 

* * *

Joyce's car was back in the driveway when he arrived home, and he instantly felt his heart plummet into his stomach. He recited his apology in his head at least seventeen times from the moment he went to bed and the moment he had woken up. 

The house was silent, assuming the kids were out riding bikes and had left the parents to their own devices. Tension had been crackling in the atmosphere ever since they had arrived, he couldn't blame them for wanting to be out of the house. 

The paper bag in his hand rustled as he walked up the stairs and into their bedroom. He stopped as soon as he saw Joyce sitting on the bed, holding the unopened box in her hands. 

"Hey, babe." he whispered, almost no volume in his words at all. 

"Hey," she whispers back, refusing to take her eyes off of the test box. Hopper stepped closer, moving to sit down next to her on the bed. He could see the dried tears still stuck to her cheeks as soon as she looked up. 

"I am... I'm so sorry," he breathes, staring deeply into her eyes. "I acted like this wasn't my situation too. Like this was all on you... but it isn't. I promise, I'm right here," 

Her lower lip quivers as she nods softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm scared," she mutters, feeling his pulse thrumming from her skin touching his. 

"Me too." his hand reaches for hers. "But we'll be okay. We always are. Joyce we— we've been through hell. Look where it got us, _besides the past three weeks_." 

For the first time in weeks, he feels her lips turn upwards into a soft smile. "You mean that?" she asks, breathing in his scent and letting it calm her for once. 

With a smile of his own, he leans to wrap his arms entirely around her. "Of course I do, Horowitz. You and me? We're a fucking warrior bunch. We've already got three of 'em, what's one more?" he laughs, feeling her chuckle softly against him. 

Three excruciating minutes later, the test she held in her hand was cured and ready. Nervously, she walked out of the bathroom and sat back down on the bed. "You sure we'll be okay?" she asks, her brows knitted with worry. 

"Look at me," his hand comes up to her cheek, gently turning to look at him. "If it's negative, we'll be more careful. If it's positive, we'll conquer it as it comes, _together._ " His words feel like lotion on a burn, cooling away the worst of the anxiety, leaving her only with nervousness. 

She takes a moment to stare at him, reading his sincerity in his deep blue eyes. "Okay," she gulps. Embracing one last moment as parents of three kids, she forces herself to flip the test over. 

Her eyes immediately travel up towards his once she saw the result. "Looks like you're gonna be daddy, huh." her lips fold inward as if she's trying to force herself to smile while trying not to cry. 

His arm comes up around her shoulder and his other hand wipes away a stray tear. His forehead rests against hers before he steals her lips for a kiss. "I love you so much, Joy." he murmurs against her lips. 


End file.
